


A Kind of Gratitude

by mydogwatson



Series: DIALOGUES [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, John is a good man, M/M, Mycroft makes an effort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-18 01:50:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1410544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydogwatson/pseuds/mydogwatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John goes to the Diogenes Club to repay a debt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Kind of Gratitude

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is the last of these fics for now. Thanks to everyone who let me know that they were enjoying the stories. I have some ideas for more and will post as they happen. In the meantime, this seems an appropriate stopping point.

Happiness is itself a kind of  
gratitude.

-Joseph Wood Krutch

 

This time, at least, John knew to keep his mouth shut.

Instead of speaking, he merely handed the doorman a piece of paper upon which he had carefully handwritten the name MYCROFT HOLMES. Then he just waited, silently, until a grim-faced attendant [butler? armed guard?] came to propel him along the corridor to the Stranger’s Room.

“Mr. Holmes will be along presently,” the man said in a tone that dripped with haughty disdain over the very idea that a tackily dressed, under-employed GP and part-time blogger was daring to disturb the tranquility of his precious domain.

John thought that perhaps he should have paid more attention to the earlier criticism [also silent, and no less disdainful] that had been directed at his plaid shirt when he’d donned it that morning. But, truthfully, if he let every eye-roll over his wardrobe dissuade him from going out, he’d never leave the flat at all.

The chair he chose was comfortable, but nevertheless he could not really settle comfortably into it. Instead, he perched on the edge and waited. After basically ignoring Mycroft for so long, even since Sherlock’s return, this was bound to be an uncomfortable meeting. Not that there was really any other kind when it came to Mycroft Holmes, of course.

A few minutes later, the man in question entered the room, looking not at all surprised to find John waiting. Of course, there was undoubtedly no real reason why he should have been even slightly startled, because he had probably known the moment the door to 221B had opened. And it was likely that the innocent plaid shirt had elicited another negative reaction, although John doubted that Mycroft Holmes had ever rolled his eyes. More likely it had been a scornful lip twitch. Also it seemed probable that the route of the taxi had been tracked all the way here.

“Good morning, John,” he murmured in his most silken diplomatic voice. “I hope you are well?”

“I’m fine, thanks.” Because John had been raised to be polite, he then added, “And you?”

Mycroft looked faintly amused by the query. “I’m well,” he said, sitting opposite John. “And my brother? Since his triumphant return to life he no longer needs rescuing on a regular basis, so I rarely hear from him.”

“Sherlock is fine, too.”

“Excellent.” Mycroft unnecessarily tidied the crease in his right trouser leg. “I hope that you are continuing to enjoy your renewed tenancy on Baker Street.”

John nodded. “I am. Very much.”

Now Mycroft fixed him with an openly curious gaze. “I must say that your return to that particular living arrangement surprised me more than a little. I had understood that you were intimately involved with…” He paused delicately.

“That didn’t work out,” John snapped.

The break-up had been fairly bloodless. As had the entire relationship, actually. Mary acknowledged as much as he was packing to leave her flat, pointing out that there had always been a third, ghostly presence in the room. In the bed. He had opened his mouth to protest that, but instead he just closed his suitcase and picked up his jacket. Bloodless.

“Ah, I see.”

John rather thought that Mycroft didn’t see at all, but that wasn’t why he’d come here, so he didn’t respond.

They sat in silence for a moment before Mycroft glanced at his watch. “While I am delighted to see you, of course,” he said, “I am in the middle of preparing for a rather important meeting. Number 10 is so fussy about details.” 

“Yes, right.” John took a deep breath. “Actually, you will probably be surprised to find out that I am here to thank you.” He gave a slightly nervous laugh. “I am certainly amazed to find myself doing so.”

One slightly elevated brow indicated bemusement. “To thank me for what?”

John leaned forward and looked into Mycroft’s face. “For the help you gave Sherlock while he was…away. If I could not be there for him---” The the lingering bitterness was unmissable in his voice, but both men ignored it. “Anyway, I’m glad someone was helping him. I am very grateful and I thought maybe you should know that.”

Mycroft just nodded carefully. He hesitated and then said, “My brother asked about you every time we spoke. Every time.”

“He has told me that.”

“Has he? That is very good. I was not confident that he would be able to express himself well when dealing with emotion. That kind of thing has never been his forte.”

John wondered if he should take offence on Sherlock’s behalf, but then he remembered that the remark had come from a man even less accustomed to emotion than Sherlock, so he only smiled faintly. “He expresses himself just fine.”

“Excellent.” The word did not sound even a little bit skeptical.

There was another pause.

“Well,” John said finally. “I have done what I came to do, so I should let you get back to running the country.”

“Thank you for what you said.” Mycroft sounded sincere, if a little surprised at his own words.

John nodded. He stood and walked to the door, before pausing there, with one hand on the knob. “Oh, by the way,” he said in an off-hand voice.

“Yes?”

“Sherlock has asked me to marry him and I said yes. Details will be forthcoming.” With that, he left, grinning as he marched out of the Diogenes Club, and kept just walking until he was across the street, to where Sherlock was waiting on the corner.

*

Mycroft stopped at the window and watched as John Watson walked up to Sherlock. He could see Sherlock’s smile even from where he stood and, try as he might, he could not remember when he’d last seen that expression on his brother’s face.

Sherlock reached out and touched John’s cheek, saying something that made John laugh. Then they turned and walked away. 

“You’re very welcome,” Mycroft said softly. After the two men disappeared from view in the traffic, Mycroft turned away from the window and returned to the solitude of his club.

***

**Author's Note:**

> I had really hoped to have my AU done and posted before I leave for three weeks in London in May, but that is clearly not going to happen. At least, this will give me a chance for some more on-site research to, hopefully, help make the story as good as it can be. Thanks for your patience and I hope you will feel as if it was worth waiting for.


End file.
